According to a dictionary definition, musicianship is “knowledge, skill and artistic sensitivity in performing music”. These three factors are inseparable, and each builds successively upon one before, so we can’t ignore any of them if we want to be true musicians.

Knowledge alone does not suffice, since playing music also requires practiced movement to develop skill; skill does not suffice, since artistic sensitivity is essential for music to sound musical; and artistic sensitivity cannot be expressed without skill. But when all these factors are in place, we have good tone, smoothness, reasonable accuracy, confident playing, expression, dynamics, and the ability to learn well from whatever source is appropriate for the style of music we play (notation, tablature, by ear, etc.).

Many musicians believe that good musicianship primarily means being able to play a new piece of music at tempo and all the way through. There are certain situations in which one must play well at first sight-reading, but this skill is attained only after one has a good foundation in the other necessary skills. If the foundation is not there, its lack will be evident no matter how well you sight read or how quickly you think you’ve learned the piece. Learning a piece is so much more than just being able to play the notes at tempo. If you are striving foremost to get through a new piece so it sounds like you’re “playing music”, you’re barking up the wrong tree, because it always means sacrificing something such as fingering, technique, muscle memory, tone, and/or smoothness, but most importantly it often means sacrificing expression.

Expression comes after gaining a full understanding and experience of the music being played. Learning slowly, with focus, and with attention to detail and nuance, gives the player the ability to integrate a piece of music fully enough to then play it expressively. If you love music, why would you want to learn it any way other than completely?

Many musicians try to tackle pieces they aren’t ready for, perhaps because the pieces are beyond one’s current skill level, or because they assume some prior experience on another instrument will automatically translate to a new instrument. Intellectual understanding of how an instrument works and how the music is read does not translate to integrated skill!

In any case, not giving yourself enough time, with every new piece at any level, or as an actual beginner on a new instrument, rarely works well. Trying to “make it music” as quickly as possible sabotages the process of actual learning. The only way to achieve full musicianship is to be methodical and slow and purposeful and focused in practice until you know the piece inside and out. Then you will have both music and musicianship, rather than sacrificing the musicianship just to play the music.

There have been a few reports of studies on musicians’ practice habits that have recently shown up on Facebook. Two that I found interesting were the one about what kind of practice habits are most effective, and another claiming that the much-touted 10,ooo hours or practice is not what makes a musician good. I have some opinions about both of these so-called studies.

One cannot do a truly scientific study on something as esoteric as how musicians practice, because there are too many variables. Every musician is different in background, attitude, and aptitude. One simply cannot make blanket statements about what makes us good musicians or not. And it amuses me that these studies were done to acquire information that could have been obtained by just asking musicians how they gained their skills.

The “study” debunking the 10,000-hour rule hints that you’re born with talent or you’re not, and that if you’re not, no amount of practice will help. Worse, it suggests that if you are talented you don’t have to practice. Both of these ideas are proven wrong by millions of musicians very day. As a professional musician, I can definitively say that no matter how much talent you possess, if you don’t practice extensively you can’t play well. And I can also tell you from a lifetime of careful observation that many people with talent who don’t work really hard can be bypassed by those with less talent who work harder.

Gary Marcus, a cognitive psychologist at New York University, remarking about talent and practice, states in his book Guitar Zero, “Hundreds of thousands of people took music lessons when they were young and remember little or nothing.” Well, sure. I took a number of courses in school about which I remember nothing. Why? Because they didn’t interest me. Any kid forced to take music lessons without wanting to is not likely to remember much. That’s not a significant way to look at the effectiveness of practice.

The other study stated that the difference between ineffective and effective practice, which leads to the difference between mediocrity and mastery, is practicing deliberately. This I agree with. It’s not how long you practice, it’s how you practice.

Many of us tend to be self-congratulatory about our progress much sooner than perhaps we ought to be. Good practice includes consistent self-evaluation and constantly correcting weaknesses. Practicing isn’t simply playing what’s fun and easy. Playing for fun and repeating what you already know is not the same as striving to reach a new level. Simply playing what you play best, or just goofing around on the instrument, is fun and necessary but it’s not all there is. You have to push yourself and focus on what you don’t yet know or can’t yet do, if you are to make progress.

Doing what you already do pretty well can include, by the way, just reading through tunes on a page. That doesn’t do much for one’s skills unless the music is also used as a tool for focus, analysis, and deliberate skill enhancement.

So, what are some good practice habits? See my previous blogs, and also consider:

There are two necessary kinds of practice: that which you do when learning a piece, and that which you do in preparation for a performance. They are very different.

When learning a piece:

Learn by playing every tune

Learn a phrase at a time (don’t just read through an entire piece; that is not productive).

When you make an error, don’t just correct it and go on – that is actually practicing the error! Figure out why you made it. Correct the fingering, eye movement or technique.

Address all errors by making the awkwardly executed phrase into an exercise and repeating it slowly until it feels natural and is easy to do right. Then you can play the phrase in context.

Always breathe while playing the hard parts.

Play with a metronome to increase accuracy.

Never shirk on any of this! These steps are absolutely necessary. Yes, even the metronome.

When practicing for a performance, you will already have done the above quite a lot for every piece you plan to perform. You’ve already done what you can to correct errors. Since some errors will occur anyway, now it’s time to:

Learn to play through your mistakes and to disguise or ignore them.

Imagine being in the performance situation as you practice. Imagine the stage lights, the audience, the sound system, or whatever the situation will probably be.

Have you wondered how professional musicians can play intricate passages and really fast music in a way that looks effortless and sounds smooth? How do they get their fingers to know where to go faster than they can consciously think? Or even to play slower pieces confidently?

Think “learned movement that becomes habitual”. With consistent and focused practice, the point at which you can feel the effort decrease, the flow of the music improve, the ability to play expressively increase, and you get the feeling that you’re playing on “autopilot” – that’s the goal. And it’s usually attainable for those who are willing to work for it.

In all fairness, there are those who for one reason or another cannot develop habits of movement and must therefore learn other ways to play, and for whom it may never feel easy. I applaud the effort and the willpower shown by those who are willing to play even though faced with this challenge. I don’t think it’s impossible or wrong to play an instrument by intense concentration of every movement. No one should think they cannot play just because something that works for most doesn’t work for them. So don’t let anyone stop you.

But if you can do certain things kinesthetically such as tie your shoes, write longhand, and other such habitual-movement activities, then it’s likely you can learn to play music kinesthetically as well. If you’ve never developed a kinesthetic (habitual movement) sense for music-playing, perhaps you’ve never been taught how! (And it’s not just a matter of how long you practice. If you already practice for reasonable lengths of time, you may not need to practice more, just differently.)

I was recently gratified to read in Malcolm Gladwell’s well-known book What the Dog Saw* a lengthy and detailed treatise on the subject of learned movement and the difference between what he calls explicit learning and implicit learning. Explicit learning is when you are beginning to practice a new physical skill, and it still feels a bit stiff and contrived due to its unfamiliarity. But as time and practice go on, it becomes more automatic and more fluid, even intuitive; it becomes implicit. One can then rely on the proper motions to happen masterfully without having to concentrate so hard on them, which frees up the mind to focus on other important aspects of the activity. Gladwell states that implicit physical learning happens in many kinds of physical activities (I would venture to say most).

Gladwell also cites what happens, using actual occurrences, when someone who has developed implicit knowledge (habitual, kinesthetic, intuitive movement) stops trusting it and reverts back to explicit knowledge. That usually happens under pressure. In sports, it’s disastrous. In my personal experience, in music it is equally so. Therefore when I practice for a gig I always purposely practice explicitly and implicitly (with attention to details of movement and patterns, and also on “autopilot”). I never know until I’m on stage which state of mind I will be in; if I’m nervous it’s always the explicit one, which is far more difficult. Better to practice for that state of mind than to assume I will always be in implicit mode just because I so easily achieve that at home! (That’s the same situation as when a student comes to a lesson and says “I played it better at home”. I’ve never known a student who didn’t experience that.)

As I said in a previous post, while you’re learning new music or skills, the neurologic system continually “files” the information in your subconscious, which allows later accessing of those skills or movements merely by “hearing” the music in your head. If you’ve practiced the piece well, the fingers can just play what you “hear” without your consciously telling them where to go. Your hands will know what to do because a direct connection develops between the muscles and the subsconscious mind, bypassing the conscious mind. At this point, thinking too much about the logistics of playing it (“Now I put this finger here…” or “next is a G note”) can actually sabotage the process. I’ll compare this again to tying your shoes: when you were a little kid you had to concentrate really hard on learning that skill, but soon you could do it on autopilot. Now if you tried to think about how you tie your shoes (“This end goes over that end and through this loop…”) you can’t do it as quickly as you can when you just turn your fingers loose to do it. Relying on muscle (implicit) memory is far more efficient than trying to think it through when you already know it.

For musicians who read music well, there is an implicit habit that develops in response to reading each specific note or group of notes: upon seeing them the brain tells the fingers where to go. You don’t have to think, “That’s a G note and therefore I have to put my third finger here.” Needless to say, this ability comes with a lot of practice!

Likewise, those who memorize or play by ear can have the ability to “hear” the note or phrase in your head and the fingers will automatically play it.

We’ve all heard that one must play a piece or passage or exercise every day for twenty-one days to set it in memory. I would say also to set it implicitly. That number probably came from someone’s research, and from experience I believe it’s true for most. Some with a great deal of experience get it much more quickly, but most mortals have to work at it.

Playing music is never effortless in the beginning. But it can get to feel that way (at least physically) when your skills are in place and you have practiced sufficiently. I see many people not trusting their hands even after they have developed a reliable kinesthetic sense, especially in regard to technique. If your technique is good, you don’t have to think about it except to fix the occasional straying away that can occur. As one teacher used to say, “Once you’ve got the information, hang up the phone.” Trust your brain and your fingers. They are there to serve you.

*Gladwell’s book covers many subjects; the section I’ve referenced is only a small part it’s about how what we assume or what we consider common sense or common knowledge isn’t always accurate, and how we can benefit from looking at things from other and sometimes opposite viewpoints. His writing is always well researched and responsible, which is why he’s a respected best-selling author. I highly recommend the book.

Your repertoire is your collection of pieces that you know well enough to play in performance, or at least well enough to enjoy playing for yourself. It’s not necessarily what you carry around in your music bag, unless you know all the music in it really well. My repertoire, for instance, consists of pieces I’ve played over the years well enough to play in public, and though many of them need a little refreshment practice before they are formally performable, I can play them with confidence.

Skill is how well you play in general. It has nothing to do with the size of your repertoire.

Many people are more focused on building a bigger repertoire than they are on building skill. It seems that everyone wants to go home from a workshop or a lesson with a new tune or two. Of course, playing music should be entertaining for all of us, so new tunes can be exciting and fun. Building repertoire is important. But at the same time, building skill is essential. Otherwise you can end up with a huge repertoire of pieces all at the same skill level instead of advancing to higher levels of proficiency.

For those who are paper trained, there seems to be a focus on collecting music on paper. It’s as though “she who collects the most music books wins,” even if you never learn most of the pieces in the books. As an author of music books, I won’t be saying don’t buy them, but as a teacher I have to ask, what will you do with them? Having lots of music on paper is not the same as having lots of music in your repertoire.

On the other hand, how much music do you need in your repertoire? If you play in a restaurant or a club, you do need a large repertoire, and if you can sight-read, all those music books will serve you well. But if you are a solo or small-ensemble player doing concerts or shorter gigs, you don’t need a huge repertoire; it’s far more important to keep building skill, and just learning more tunes won’t help with that unless each new tune is at a higher skill level than the previous ones.

Those who play in sessions or circles tend to focus on building repertoire. After all, in sessions they play a lot of tunes! And in circles you want to present a new tune each time the circle meets. This is good. But don’t let it prevent you from also taking the time to build skill.

Building Skill

It’s easy to assume that there’s one definition for musical skill, but in fact there are different skills for different musical situations, and each needs to be defined separately. Some people shine in one skill, some in another, and some are adept at more than one.

In any genre there are subsets of skills, such as improvisation, sight-reading, ear-playing, memorizing, etc. I’ve written about those in past articles, so I’ll focus here just session skills and performance skills.

Session/jamming skills:

Sessions are also called jams, depending on the genre. (There is a slight difference in the two terms, however, because jamming often implies some degree of improvisation, while in a session it’s OK to just play the tune straight.) For both jamming and sessions, you need a large repertoire, and whether you play the tunes well is of less importance than being able to keep up with the other musicians.

Playing on the beat, and being able to play either the chords or the melody (or both) to a recognizable degree and at tempo, are what one must focus on for sessions and jams. Usually no one really knows how accurately you’re playing because there are many instruments playing at the same time, and imperfections are therefore fairly well hidden, as long as you’re not the loudest instrument in the group. (That doesn’t mean you should play too softly – if you can’t be heard well enough to blend in, what’s the point? The purpose of a jam is to create a group sound.)

Session playing is good practice for ensemble playing, and can also increase your performance skills, since you’re forced to play at the accepted tempo for each piece, to keep it consistent, and to keep playing when you make a mistake, without pausing or repeating. It can also be excellent experience for alleviating stage fright issues.

Performing skills:

A performer, on the other hand, needs to play concert repertoire in a clean, accurate and polished way. Some professional performers don’t do jam sessions because they’ve spent all their time perfecting their concert repertoire instead, which often does not contain many of the commonly heard session pieces. (But of course they can usually chord along with just about any tune.) On the other side of the coin, some jammers don’t do well in performance because they’ve spent their time learning as much repertoire as possible without having to pay attention to how well they actually play it (generally speaking) – but some are very good at both. Aiming to be that kind of musician is a great goal.

Concerts of folk or traditional music usually only require about 90 minutes of material – maybe 15 pieces, or fewer if some are very long. But the focus and the time it takes to keep those few pieces concert-ready is significant. For each touring season, a professional folk or traditional musician may work up one concert-worth of material and use it all season.

If you’re uncertain how to develop concert level skills, please see my previous articles on practice.

Whatever your focus, choose with awareness of whether it’s the right focus for your intended purpose, and enjoy what you play!

There comes a point in learning any tune when we need to begin practicing it two different ways. Up to a point the learning process has to be about getting all the notes, timing and tempo precise (and the lyrics if it’s a song). After the point when you’re consistently playing it right, it’s time to add the second practice format: playing it well.

What’s the difference? Playing a piece well means making it musical, expressive, flowing, and enjoyable for a listener; no longer concentrating on formulaic and robotic aspects, and just sinking in to the music; letting it become more than just a succession of accurate notes. Assuming your technique is in place, let’s look at how you might approach expression. For example, here’s what I do:

First I assume that the name of the piece is a clue to its intended mood. However, that can sometimes be misleading, as I’ve mentioned in the past. Learning also about the origin of the piece is a good idea. (i.e. “The Wild Geese” is not about pretty flying geese, but about a sad historical event). Not only will research help you play the piece in an appropriate way, but it will provide interesting verbal introductions.

Next, I choose a tempo. Sometimes tempo is indicated on an arrangement, but when it’s not, it’s up to you to discern. (Remember the time signature has nothing to do with tempo!)These days we have You Tube for reference. I find it helpful if I listen to enough different versions and artists to get a good average. You’ll probably notice that some versions leave you cold and others are quite inspiring. It’s not so much a specific piece of music, but how it’s played that touches a listener. (For instance, I used to hate certain songs until I heard Willy Nelson sing them!)

I find it almost useless to try to learn a piece I have not heard. The page does not speak to me. If I hear it played expressively, I can feel if I want to express it similarly or not. Just copying someone’s playing doesn’t give it any individuality, so I won’t do that. However, copying expression is a good exercise if you’re uncertain of how to create it for yourself. I remember seeing footage of Segovia teaching a student on classical guitar and requiring that the student play the piece exactly as he played it. He’d play a phrase and have the student repeat it back to him, and if it didn’t sound like a recording of himself he would scold. The point was, I’m sure, that the student would in the future develop his own style, but like an art student copying masters’ paintings, copying a master’s musical expression can be an aid in learning.

Expressive playing is not a recitation but a conversation. It has to be animated if you want anyone to listen. Expression involves dynamics, a mood quality (flowing, dancing, strident… depending on the mood of the piece), a feeling of confidence; it means living the music. I put myself in the mood I want to portray, sort of like method acting. But it doesn’t feel like acting; it feels like real life. Music is the purposeful re-living of some feeling or event. I don’t have to force the feeling out of a piece; I just feel it and it flows out.

You may find at first when you begin to add expression, accuracy flies out the window. At first, don’t let that worry you. It’s not an either/or thing forever. It just takes practice. But at first if you try to play accurately while you’re trying to play expressively, expression won’t develop. Just let the goofs slide by and keep going. This might be challenging since the habit trying to play accurately causes the brain to continue to engage with technique rather than make the switch to feeling. Developing a new skill means re-training the brain to function in a new way. Keep trying until you can ignore the mistakes.

After successfully learning to play a piece with feeling, then add the element of accuracy back in. Musicians have to “split the brain” into several different processes at once, and these can be compatibly done.

Some people put the cart before the horse, playing with great expression before there is any development of skill. It’s good if you can develop both at the same time, but expression is not a substitute for skill (or vice versa). Don’t skimp on technical practice.

Once I’m able to play a piece with both accuracy and expression, it’s ready for performance. But keeping it in practice means that sometimes one has to practice for accuracy and at other times for expression, and then for both. If I don’t take the two elements apart occasionally, I am in danger of losing one of them. I choose one day to play for one element and another day for the other.

Several days ago I noticed that all the photos of the products in my online store (see link above) had disappeared. I don’t know how long it had been that way. For those of you who visited that page and/or wanted to order a book, DVD, or CD, it may have been a bit confusing. In the past week as Iworked on the site there may have been down times as well. I’m happy to report it is fixed, and working better than ever! Please re-visit that page now.

When you hear a performance by a professional whom you admire, it’s likely that part of their allure can’t be described; something about their skills and/or in their demeanor on stage sets them apart from the average musician. Whatever that quality is, it’s not something we can learn as a technical skill, and it’s different for each such performer. (It could be called “charisma”, but there‘s more to it than that.)

Being musically knowledgeable doesn’t necessarily make one a good musician. In fact, it avails us little unless we use our knowledge in ways that transcend dry technical skills and data; these must be balanced with the ability to make the music speak. Music that is nothing but one note following another is OK for muzak*, but not for performance.

Although it may not be possible to define exactly what makes certain performers charismatic, there are some definable skills and traits. These have to be in place for both technical skill and undefinable qualities to really shine:

They have total passion and drive. (It’s not very common to find a professional musician who never worked very hard at it and had more important things, like doing the laundry, taking precedence in their life.) Having the passion means being driven to learn and practice music as the primary focus of one’s life; they can’t not do it.

They never let themselves say, “That’s good enough.” They are always improving their skills, always stretching what’s possible, even when they are already at the top of their field.

They strive for a balance between sounding perfect and sounding real.

What does this mean? Notice I said “sounding perfect”, not “playing perfectly”. Sounding perfect, or close to it, isn’t a matter of actually playing perfectly, though on very rare occasions some musicians do. But no one can play perfectly 100% of the time, and the rest of the time, little imperfections are skillfully hidden. This isn’t cheating – it’s necessary.

Among other skills, how we handle – even use – imperfection determines our ability to perform well. Learning happens as a result of imperfection; imperfections are touchstones to correct our path. It’s like autopilot on an aircraft – a function that continually corrects the path of the plane to keep it going in the right direction.

Striving to always play perfectly is a good policy, as long as you’re realistic and accept that it’s an imaginary goal. If we aim for something bigger than life, we are more likely to attain more in reality than we would if we aim for a lower goal. But that means we have to keep our heads on straight and not get discouraged that reality is always what we get. I’m not saying don’t aim for the best possible goal; I’m saying aim beyond that, and you will achieve real skill.

As for the other part of the equation – sounding real – what does that mean? IMHO, sounding real is being genuine, both in stage demeanor and in musical expression. Being genuine in musical expression means letting the music sing its own song without forcing anything into it. Being genuine in stage demeanor means not acting differently on stage than you would off stage (unless of course you have a tendency to say or do socially unacceptable things off stage, or your conversational grammar is less than stellar). Talking to an audience can be done with a feeling of intimacy if you simply speak as you would to friends, no matter how large your audience is. Being an announcer or a declarer isn’t necessary.

They are usually not condescending in their personal interactions. I’ve known a few who were, but invariably these were not the folks at the top. They were on their way up, and those who kept that attitude never got all the way to where they wanted to be. There is probably a correlation there.

They are good business people. I know many excellent musicians who’ve never had much success because they hate doing the necessary business work that backs up a career. Being exclusively right-brained does you no favors. Your art alone will not carry you. Even though a good musician may deserve to succeed on their musical merits alone, anyone who has lived long enough knows that life doesn’t usually just hand you what you deserve. You have to work for it in all the ways that our society requires, and for musicians, half of the work is taking care of business.

What does that mean? It means developing a website, having an online presence in social media, recording your music and making it available to the public and to promoters, locating performance venues, sending promo packets, making phone calls, applying to music convention showcases, showing up on time for every gig and every rehearsal, being 100% reliable, and so on. At the very least, for a local part-time career, it means business cards, demo CDs, and brochures distributed where people come in contact with them.

There are a very few good musicians who are in demand even though they have done little or none of the above; these are usually back-up musicians who enhance the performances of front-people. They become well known among their peers by being present at as many jams and sessions as they can, and developing a reputation for being really, really good. It takes exceptional skill to be someone who makes it on informal personal contact alone.

They let the music say what cannot be said in spoken word.

They have multi-faceted musical presentations encompassing many moods, rhythms, and tempos.

They’re willing to do the hard work of focused, honest practice.

9. They share (“Music is wonderful”) rather than show off (“I am wonderful”)

None of this means that if you don’t choose to make music the prime focus of your life and develop these skills, that there’s anything wrong with doing music the way you choose. Music is your birthright, and you can do it any way that feels good to you. But if you decide to take it as far as you can, hopefully this information will be helpful in that quest.

*(Muzak was a company name that became a generic term for “elevator music”. Essentially what the company did was compress, to an extreme, the dynamic/frequency range of instrumental recordings of popular tunes, rendering them annoyingly inexpressive, and market them to be played over public address systems in stores, restaurants, and yes, elevators. This music was assumed by most people to be provided as a courtesy for the purpose of pleasant ambience, but in fact it was – and still is – used where loitering is discouraged; it works on a subliminal level in such places as restaurants where faster patron turnover increases profits, and in parking lots where store owners don’t want people hanging out.)

How often have you watched someone play an instrument you play, and wondered how they are doing something that’s beyond your present ability? It’s to be expected that beginners and intermediate players will have this experience, but it happens to advanced players and professionals as well!

That’s because almost no one masters all the skills that are possible on any given instrument. Advanced skills often develop selectively, rather than in a broad-spectrum way. When we listen to an advanced or professional player, we get the impression that since the skills we are hearing are obviously in place, so must be all the rest. But if you asked any musician to do well every skill he or she “should” have for his instrument at his or her level, many would prove to have only the skills you’ve already heard.

Some folks automatically assume that whatever skills an advanced musician does not have aren’t necessary. After all, we might think, they haven’t needed them thus far. But the truth is that we just find niches where we don’t have to use the skills we don’t have. (One obvious example is sight-reading vs. ear-learning; those who sight read often believe they have no reason to need ear-learning skills and vice versa, but in fact each of those skills is only half of a full glass.) There are exceptions, of course, but I’ve met very few. It’s only fair to acknowledge that this kind of limitation is not necessarily a bad thing. It takes so much work, time, and effort to become good at the skills we do have that our ability to perform well would be compromised if we also had to work at perfecting the whole range of advanced skills we “should” have.

However, for those at beginner and intermediate levels, such limitations are, well… limiting. Not learning and practicing well everything that should be in your skill set will negatively affect your musical development.

Before you think I’m letting advanced players off the hook, I’ll explain that few would ever get to advanced levels if they had allowed themselves limitations at their previous levels. You can tell who has been lazy and who has not; those with “selective skills” from early on have a very limited style of playing – all their music sounds pretty much the same.

So, being honest with yourself, how do you assess where your skills are? Some of us are acutely aware of our shortcomings. But aside from what we’re aware of, if you missed something along the way, how would you know? After all, you, uh, missed it.

Therefore, use your learning opportunities. I notice that after a certain level is reached (in the estimation of the player), they tend to stop going to classes, workshops, and lessons. But every musician can benefit from further education. Getting a fresh point of view is tremendously helpful at any level. Besides studying at your own general skill level, also take advantage of how much help it can be to study at a level that is lower than you perceive your skills to be. Letting someone take you back to a more basic level and show you what you missed is a really good idea. It’s likely that some of the information will be new or at least remedial.

In such cases, it’s considerate to refrain from trying to show the class or the teacher that you’re a better player than everyone else. Doing so intimidates the other students, and puts the teacher in a compromised position; usually they’ll assume they need to teach to your level to keep you interested and challenged. Teaching to disparate levels in a group is not beneficial to anyone. You can keep your skill level to yourself and just be a really good student. Don’t be insulted when you’re treated like everyone else.

The opposite also applies; you can sign up for a workshop or class that is beyond your skill level, and if nothing else, you can get a great deal of inspiration from it. If you remind yourself not to become discouraged, such an experience can propel you forward by light years. (It’s a good idea to inform the teacher that your skills are not up to the class standard, and tell them not to hold the class back just for you.)

After a workshop or class you might remember only a few, or maybe even just one, thing that was presented there. If that happens, it may seem like you’ve wasted money and time, but in actuality that one thing or few things do make it worthwhile. It takes time to master even one new skill. If you don’t consciously remember everything you hear in a workshop or class, rest assured that it’s in your brain somewhere, and next time you hear it you’ll be closer to being able to remember and use it. The brain works behind the scenes when we’re not aware that it’s doing so. It’s amazing how much we learn without knowing we have.

Although it may be nearly impossible to master every skill that your instrument is capable of expressing, it can’t hurt to keep learning no matter how good you get. There is no “there” to get to – it’s an endless road, and that’s one reason playing music is so satisfying.

Consider what would happen in a dramatic theatre production if all the actors read their lines from a script, instead of memorizing them. It wouldn’t make much of a play. Learning their lines allows them to express and emote, to live the play. Likewise, memorizing your music allows you to live the music.

Memorization seems daunting to those who assume that memorizing is a talent some people have and others don’t. But in fact it’s a skill that can and should be learned like any other skill: through instruction and practice. It should be taught to every music student, because it’s an essential part of musicianship.

Memorizing is actually easy and natural. People do it naturally with everything else – like tying your shoes or remembering your birthday – so why approach it in music as though it were so difficult? If it is hard for you, it’s only because you haven’t been shown an effective way. Before you say, “But I’m different – I just can’t do it; I can only play by reading music from paper,” consider that paper-training is not ear training. In other words, if you’ve not been taught how to memorize, how can you expect to do it as easily as someone who has?

Before there was musical notation, everything was either memorized or improvised. The bards of Europe and the Griots of Africa could memorize songs and poems that were up to several hours long, word for word and/or note for note. The human brain is capable of great feats of memory. But what we don’t practice and experience, we don’t realize can be valuable. And if we don’t use it we don’t know it’s there.

Obviously, orchestral players, those who play in restaurants, and those who do studio work need a repertoire so vast that referring to notation and/or charts is necessary. But for solo or small-ensemble concerts, folk bands, therapeutic music, sessions, jams and social music-making, dependence on notation is a hindrance.

Do you carry your repertoire in a tote bag? Can you truly say that you know the music you play? For every gig, carrying around a bag of music books, setting up the music stand, finding the pieces you plan to play or sing, referring to the notation every few seconds, turning pages, and so on, is a bit like building a house that has to be reconstructed each time you come home. Why not just build it permanently?

When playing in group situations, constantly reading notation prevents you from listening and analyzing what you hear (not what you see – music is sound, not paper), and also prevents you from fully participating in the incredible fun and elation that come from having your focus on the blend of the group and adding to it rather than just “playing a part”. It’s not just a mental/intellectual exercise – it’s visceral and emotional. The real fun of playing the music isn’t just to get all the “right” notes in, it’s the musical conversation with other musicians, and the conversation that occurs between you and your instrument. (Traditional and folk music, by the way, are all about absorbing, integrating, and feeling the music, and that is BY NO MEANS inferior to playing specified arrangements.)

When repertoire is memorized, not only do you have it forever, but it is easily accessed, and you are much more free to put all your creative energy into your playing. With no third party (notation) between you and your instrument, your attention can be more focused.

When someone tells me they can’t memorize, I ask them how they are trying to go about it. Most often, they say they look at the page and try to remember what’s on it. No wonder there’s a problem! Memorizing music does not mean “seeing the page in your head”. That’s not the music; it’s just paper! If you memorize the way the notes look on a page, you still have to “read” them in your head to play them, so the actual notation may as well be used.

Nor is it practical to try to memorize a piece by reading it through in its entirety and expecting to remember it. Memorizing is more easily done a bit at a time. You wouldn’t take a meal on a plate, dump it down your throat in one enormous lump, and hope to digest it.

To memorize from notation:

Make a point of noticing the time signature and rhythm, and count the first phrase aloud.

Notice the key and, of course, the clefs.

Now you’re ready to scan the notation, not to read it in detail but to notice the visual patterns formed by the notes of the melody and of the accompaniment.

A melody is like a spoken sentence with phrases separated by commas; decide where your musical “commas” should be (not necessarily ending at bar lines!) – each section is a musical phrase.

Look now at the first phrase and read it in detail.

Play or hum that phrase and only that phrase. At this point, tempo is not important; playing should be very slow no matter what tempo you will eventually work up to.)

Close your eyes and play or hum it again. If you didn’t remember it, read it again and repeat.

When you can remember and play that phrase easily, go on to the next one. Don’t do the whole tune yet, just a few phrases.

Observe your hand placements and fingerings on the instrument and remember those visual patterns as well. Listen to and remember the music’s patterns and “shapes”.

Play the phrases you’ve done enough times for muscle memory to begin to take effect, so you can do it without thinking.

When you go on to learn more phrases, don’t play the ones you already know before each playing of the ones you’re learning. You need to play all the phrases the same approximate number of times in order to memorize them all equally.

Repetition is important. It sets muscle memory as well as conscious memory. Make each phrase an exercise and play it over and over.

Then put them all together.

When you know all the phrases and can play the tune in its entirety without referring to a written page, play it every day for at least 21 days. Neurologically, that’s the number of days required to permanently set new information.

Some musicians prefer to memorize the last phrase first and work forward, instead of starting from the beginning. That’s fine. Whichever you do, be sure to memorize all the parts equally well.

When a piece is truly memorized, if you make a mistake you won’t have to go back to the beginning and start over; you will be able to pick it up anywhere or to simply play through the “unexpected notes”. Also, you should be able to play it at any tempo – from very slow to much too fast – equally well. (Of course, you’ll perform it in the correct tempo.)

One of the most common mistakes we musicians make is to try to make a piece we’re learning sound musical right away. This shortcuts all the precise attention to detail that is needed to give it character and accuracy. Keep the tempo slow and let it be a work in progress for as long as it takes. Don’t force it.

Everyone has the ability to memorize. The musician who can play or sing well from notation and from memory has a definite advantage, and our musical training should include both.

When you decide to learn a tune, it may be because it’s been assigned by a teacher, or because you’re in an ensemble or band that’s playing it, or because you have it in a book and it looks interesting, or because you’ve heard it and liked it. All those reasons are valid. Ideally, you’ll enjoy all the music you learn. But unless you’re very, very adept at “hearing” in your head what you see on paper (think Salieri in the movie Amadeus), how would you know whether or not you like a tune if you haven’t heard it played? On the other hand, if you weren’t impressed, how would you know if the way you’ve heard it could have been done in a way you like better?

This goes for instruments as well as tunes and pieces. I used to think French vielles were horrible, screechy things when the only person I’d heard play one was terribly inept, and I didn’t know she was. Later when I heard them played well, they became one of my favorite instruments. But let’s talk about tunes – the ones you’ve heard which have touched you deeply enough to want to learn them so you can recreate that magic yourself.

When you hear a tune, it may or may not be on the same kind of instrument you play (or if it’s a song it may not be sung by someone with the same voice range as yours or with the accompaniment you have available). Nevertheless, if you like it – hopefully love it – there’s some special element that produces that response in you. It could be the melody, the arrangement, the tone of the instrument or voice, the player’s individual style or expression, the rhythm, mode, or any number of indefinable elements. When played, a tune is never just a tune, and what you like about it can’t be described as simply as “I like that tune”.

One of the ways to identify the elements you love is to find more than one recorded version of it. For instance, I fell in love with harpist Nicanor Zabaleta’s recording of Enrique Granados’ Orientale, but when I heard it on classical guitar by the Romero brothers it wasn’t compelling. (Just my personal feeling; they were very good, of course). What were the elements that grabbed me in Zabaleta’s recording? I can definitively say it was the tone of the harp and the resonance of the room in which it was recorded – probably a cathedral or other resonant place, which was enhanced by the recording engineer’s choice of microphone placement – plus the delicacy with which he played it. I liked the composition of course; the movement of the left hand part, the trills in the melody, the Moorish sound of the mode used, and the use of certain accidentals. It had a mysterious quality that was missing when played more forcefully on two guitars that were recorded with the microphones closer to the instruments (the usual placement when in a recording studio).

The truth is that we don’t really stop hearing a piece in our heads the way we heard it originally – even if our own playing or singing doesn’t resemble that. The music in our head actually disguises our own awareness of what is really coming out of our fingers or our voices. We often blithely play or sing a piece without ever realizing that it sounds nothing like what’s in our head. (Hence the phenomenon I call “Karaoke syndrome”.) You aren’t the other musician, and though you can put some of their mojo in it if you’ve identified what that is, you also have to add your own magic. So how does one do that?

Every individual has a personality that comes through in their music if the skills are there to support it.Without adequate skills, the effort of just playing the right notes will override most of the expression that could be there. I’m not saying you have to be an advanced player to be expressive. You just have to play well at your skill level. If you’re a beginner, allow yourself to be one, and be the best beginner you can be by practicing as much as you possibly can. If you’re an intermediate player, the same applies. If you’re advanced, be sure you’re not glossing over unclear notes, ignoring proper and consistent tempos, or otherwise doing what I call “pretending to play better than you actually are”. (The least effective way to gain skill is to push. The most effective way is to focus. Pushing only makes messes. It takes patience to advance to a higher level, so do it with focus, integrity and purpose, and let it take time.)

I once saw a quote by Henry Van Dyke that says: “Use the talents you possess, for the woods would be a silent place if no bird sang except the best.” So… do play your music with joy, and also know that focused, purposeful practice will increase that joy. The ideas presented below are meant to be incorporated into your practice; in other words, merely reading about them won’t help your playing become more expressive; but if you actually practice them in the same way as any other technical skill, your music can be truly expressive.

In really good music there is much more going on than just the notes and the rhythm; the musician creates an image through music, letting it tell a story that affects the emotions of the listener. This is musical expression. Expression isn’t a measurable thing; it can’t be defined in numbers or captured in one definition. Yet it is the crowning glory of good performance. How to play expressively isn’t often taught, because it’s so elusive and personal, yet we’re expected to learn how to do it.

Endorphins, Resonance, and Intention:

We respond physically as well as emotionally to specific resonances, tones, pitches, and harmonies. Different people respond differently, but there are certain things that are fairly universal – for instance, low tones at soft amplitudes are usually relaxing while high pitches and/or loud volumes are enervating; slow pieces in minor keys tend to be moody, and faster pieces in major keys are usually considered happier.

Intention, which has been studied using controlled scientific research methods, is the purposeful directing of your will. If you consciously intend that your music will portray a specific mood, evoke a special feeling or have a certain effect, that intention goes a long way toward making it so. Intention is not a substitute for skill. It is a discipline used in addition to skill.

Tone Manipulation:

Tone quality is dependent on how you play and how your instrument is made. Within the capabilities of your specific instrument, aspects of tone that you can control when playing are: volume, clarity, sustain, and certain string sounds. These elements are dependent upon the following:

How you hold the instrument: If you’re not comfortable, you can’t play well. Learn good ergonomics for your particular instrument so you can relax and play with ease.

How you pluck: Experiment with volume and tone by trying a variety of plucking techniques.

Dynamics:

We’ve all occasionally heard speakers who recite monotonously (mono = one; tone = sound). It’s annoying; after all, we don’t speak that way in conversation. Likewise, we certainly don’t want to play our music that way. Yet too often we hear musicians playing in a monotonous way; in other words, with no dynamics. Remember, music is a language. Use the interplay of loud and soft, crescendo and decrescendo, as you would when speaking expressively.

There is a common tendency to play faster when playing louder, and slower when playing softer. This can negate the intended effects of dynamics. Practice with a metronome to keep your beat steady as you purposely change volume.

Don’t be afraid to use the entire dynamic range of your instrument, from the merest whisper to the loudest note you can possibly play. Only by experimenting with the full potential of your instrument will you know what it is capable of.

Melding Technique and Expression:

Accuracy without expression is just organized sound, and expression without accuracy is just disorganized sound. Notes are just notes, and feeling is just feeling; neither by itself is sufficient. But when you put the two together, you get music. A musician must be both a technician and an artist.

Those who have an easier time learning technical skills and thinking logically may be said to be “left-brained”. Those who relate better to the less technical aspects of playing, such as expression, may be said to be “right-brained”. I find students to be about equally divided into these two groups. Often, left-brained people find it challenging to play expressively, and right-brained people would rather not bother with technique.

An exclusive inclination toward one or the other can limit one’s chances of becoming a good musician. As a teacher, it’s my job to see that every student learns in the way that works best for them, and then to also give special attention to the aspects of playing they would ignore if they didn’t have a teacher who cared about their musical future. We must purposely develop the side of the brain that is less dominant. In this way, one can become “cerebrally ambidextrous” – equally capable of using technical skills and expressive skills to create a complete package of excellent musicianship.

Tempo, Beat and Rhythm:

Three basic elements in music are tempo,beat and rhythm. These are intimately related. Tempo is how fast or slow a piece of music is played; beat is the pulse of the piece, and rhythm is how the lengths of notes create patterns within the beat. In most music those factors must be easily discerned in order for it to be appreciated on any level, conscious or subconscious.

I’ve occasionally heard someone say they don’t want to play with a steady tempo because they think it will make the music sound metronomish or unexpressive. They don’t clearly understand what tempo and rhythm are for, how to hear and feel them, and how to be expressive within the parameters of these very essential elements.

If you feel rhythmically challenged, take classes in ballroom dancing, bellydancing, jazz dancing, or drumming. Take them seriously and consistently. When you have been taught how to feel a beat and a rhythm, and you have moved your whole body to it, you will have created new neural pathways that will re-wire your brain rhythmically. It will make a huge difference in your ability to hear, integrate and play all your music well.

Expressive Imagery:

Instrumental music is storytelling without words. A piece of music can evoke visual images for the player and for the listener, which are often suggested by its title. Holding an image in your mind will automatically affect how you play the piece, and even though your listeners may not “see” the same image you do, it’s likely they will hear more in your music than if you have no image in your mind.

Conscious Breathing:

What we do with our breath, both knowingly and unknowingly, expresses our state of mind. Therefore, the breath affects, is affected by, and communicates how we feel about the music we play. Additionally, our brains and muscles need a constant supply of oxygen in order to function adequately, and unconsciously holding the breath actually deprives us of it.

Many musicians gasp, pant, or hold their breath while playing; that is unconscious breathing. I heard a famous fiddle player who used a clip-on microphone on his fiddle, which picked up his gasping breath as loudly as it did his fiddling. It distracted from his music. But you don’t have to be amplified to have unnatural breathing affect both your playing and the enjoyment level of your audience. Even if your breathing is quiet, if it isn’t natural it will effect your playing.

When you breathe fully and consciously, you will find that your music “breathes” with you, and this creates expression in the music. Musicians benefit from actually practicing conscious breathing into each piece we play. That means we must practice being aware of the breath as we play, keeping it even, deep and regular. Eventually this will become habitual.

Also, whenever you’re concerned about accuracy, or when a difficult passage is coming up, concentrate on your breath. The extra oxygen will help, as will the distraction, allowing your hands to do what they know how to do without added stress.

To reiterate: identify what elements you specifically like in the music you hear. Decide which ones you can personally recreate, and then add your own touches. Pay attention to skill and to the suggestions above. Your music will grow in the special ways, both definable and ineffable, that make it compelling.